Run for It
by ALC Punk
Summary: Sam Carter gets herself in a mess and her team have to bail her out. But then again, it's on Earth, so what could possibly go wrong?


Disclaimer: not mine.  
Set: season ten of SG-1  
Pairings: none.  
Genre: er... action, angst, teamlove, gen  
Rating: R, language, violence, adult situations.  
Notes: Part of this has been sittign around for far too long. I'm happy to've finally finished it. This came from... gods, a stupid fic I read on Teh List where Sam was date-raped. As far as I'm concerned? This is more what would happen.

**Run For It**  
_by ALC Punk!_

"You drugged me." It wasn't the best thing to say to the guy who'd bought you a drink, Sam Carter decided. But her brain was becoming sluggish, her reaction time felt off.

And the guy next to her, cuddling, had his hand on her leg. He insisted the quiet corner was 'more conducive' and she hadn't objected (it was hard to object when you were bored and looking for something interesting to do, and it might as well be the twenty-something with blue eyes who'd smiled and bought you a drink).

Now she was beginning to think it had been a bad idea all around. But most especially, coming to a bar. But then, her bar track record was dismal.

At least this time, Vala wasn't with her, causing a disturbance.

"What? No, baby--"

Her hand grabbed his, and her fingers easily found the pressure points Teal'c had shown her years before. Pressure points she'd used over and over again during the course of her tenure with the SGC. "Do. Not. Call. Me. Baby."

"Ow, what the--"

Sam's world tilted slightly, and she shoved up and out of the booth, grabbing the table to stay upright. "I don't feel so good."

"Here, honey, let me help you there," he said, moving to stand next to her, solicitous and concerned.

Close enough, and Sam's elbow slammed into his ribs as she turned into him, her fist hitting his jaw. She swayed as he doubled over, and slammed her doubled fists into the back of his neck while snapping her knee up into his nose.

He, whatever his name was (she really needed to think about getting names before letting them buy her drinks), collapsed onto the floor, coughing. "Jesus fucking--"

Sam kicked him in the crotch, satisfied to feel the crunch of tender things under her steel toe. These boots had been the *best* investment ever. "Don't call me 'baby', you asshole."

"You broke my nose!"

"So?" She struggled not to fall over as a wave of dizziness assaulted her, "You drugged me."

And, head high, Sam stalked away from him, heading for the ladies room. It was a small affair, in this tiny hole in the wall. No one tried to stop her, or even suggested she pay for her drinks. Hell, not a single one had even seemed to notice the little altercation. The bathroom was a single room. Staggering in, wrinkling her nose at the scent of stale urine and vomit, Sam closed the door and pushed the lock in before her legs gave out and she slid unceremoniously to the floor.

God. All she wanted to do was sleep.

No. Sleep bad.

There was something she had to do, she decided as she stared muzzily at the toilet across the room from her.

It took her forever to crawl across the floor, and she didn't want to know how many germs and diseases she'd picked up. Luckily, the last person had been sanitary, and she didn't have to flush. But then the dilemma presented itself: her hands were now filthy, covered with god knew what.

Finally, she remembered the pen in her pocket.

Her fingers were almost too clumsy, but she got it out, and stuck it down her throat. The instant gag reflex was almost enough, and then she caught a whiff of the floor again.

And that was all she wrote. Or puked, in that case.

Sam sadly watched her dinner and the beer she'd consumed disappear as she flushed, wincing at the taste in her mouth and wondering if she could make it to the sink to rinse it. And her hands.

With perseverance, she could. Standing was possible because she'd trained herself to be able to perform even on no hours of sleep. Days spent in the field when sleeping wasn't possible, nights spent in her lab working until the dawn had broken. Or just sleepless moments when she didn't want to face her dreams.

The water tasted awful, but she figured she'd live.

The soap smelled like candy, and her stomach rumbled in annoyance.

No. No puking again. She'd hopefully gotten rid of the last of the drug, though it was already effecting her. Slipping along her blood and turning her reflexes to shit.

Falling over would be bad, she thought. From the floor, the paper towels looked so far away.

She had fallen over, she finally realized when she couldn't reach the faucet to turn it off. Somewhere, fear was spiking through her, causing more adrenaline to flow. But she couldn't quite feel it. Couldn't quite concentrate enough to remember _why_ she was scared. And why she needed to get to a phone. To get help.

Drugged. She'd been drugged. The thoughts swirled around and she remembered puking. But not why.

The how of it was obvious, the room she was in stank.

Reminded her of too many cells, too many close calls (and Daniel wasn't dying again, was he?). "Help." she whispered.

Or perhaps she said nothing at all. Gripping onto consciousness was like climbing a rock wall with her hands tied behind her back.

The sound of her phone ringing took time to decipher. Time and effort, and Sam didn't remember pulling it out and pushing the right button. "Hello?"

"Colonel Carter!" Vala's voice was cheerful, "Have you had sex yet? Daniel thinks--"

"Vala." She interrupted. There was something important she needed to say, something she couldn't remember. Sam let out a sound of frustration. "I'm locked in the bathroom."

"Sounds kinky, Colonel. Is there something you're not telling us?"

"No. Yes." That was it. A spurt of memory and clarity appeared, and Sam managed to whisper, "Help. Don't think I can..."

Before she passed out completely.

"Colonel?" Vala's voice echoed in the room, coming from the fallen phone. "Sam? Sam, what's--Daniel, there's something wrong--"

* * *

Vala had intended to tease Colonel Stick-up-her-ass Carter. The fact that the intention had gone sideways made her worry only slightly. She was, however, annoyed that Daniel hadn't let her drive. "I'd go faster than you."

"But you don't have a license," he snapped back. The car swerved as he moved past a slow-moving car. "Has the location of her cell phone changed?"

"No." One of the technicians in the control room had triangulated the still active cell phone. They'd left the phone off the hook, so as to keep the link open and the cell phone active. "Not much longer." Hopefully.

Daniel didn't say anything else, but the car sped up.

She understood. Sam Carter had been a friend of his for years, she'd stood by him in battle, saved his life and he'd saved hers. It was the kind of loyalty she wasn't used to seeing. The kind of loyalty she was a little jealous of--not that she'd ever admit it.

And she was in trouble. If there was anything Vala had noticed in the short time she'd been on SG-1, it was that, if any of them were in trouble, the rest came riding to their rescue--even hers. That was why Cameron and Teal'c were riding silently in the back of the car. Cameron had lost the coin toss for the steering wheel. He'd pouted quite cutely, in Vala's opinion.

"Oh!" She suddenly jumped in her seat as the little red dot got brighter and a loud beep echoed in the car. "I think we're nearly there."

Another beep, and then Daniel pulled into the parking lot of a rather seedy little bar.

"Everybody out," Cameron said, "And try not to attract attention until we know what's going on."

There was a mix of ages in the bar. Young, old, they didn't seem to care. Or even notice SG-1 as they stepped inside and looked around. Vala pointed the tracking thingy and swung it slowly, before stopping as it pointed towards a hallway to the side of the bar. "There." She said, as it beeped insistently.

A few of the patrons glanced at them as they moved to the back, but none got up or called out to them. They were the most unfriendly people Vala had encountered. Well, encountered within the last ten days, at least. Eleven days before they'd been shot at by Ori soldiers.

The door to the bathroom was locked when Daniel tried it. So he knocked on it, "Sam? Sam, are you in there?"

When there was no response, he backed away and let Teal'c inspect it. Then the larger man pulled a lock pick from his pocket and set to work. Thirty seconds later, the door popped open and he stepped back with an air of a man who'd done his job well. Vala was sure she could have picked it in less time, but she thought his effort was admirable.

Cameron moved to cover them, as if this were a real op--not that he had a gun. They weren't allowed to take guns off the base. At least, Vala had been told they couldn't. For all she knew, the rest of them had guns. Teal'c stepped into the small bathroom, and then moved towards the still form laying on the floor near the sink. Vala followed him, wrinkling her nose at the smell. While Teal'c carefully checked Carter for injuries and a pulse, Vala grabbed her cell phone and turned it off.

"Damn." Cameron knelt on Sam's other side and looked at Teal'c, "You'll need to carry her--Jackson?" Cameron turned to look at Daniel, who looked pale, "If you can't drive any faster, I have dibs."

"Got it." Daniel tossed the keys at him and moved to help Teal'c scoop Sam up. He touched her cheek, then stepped back.

"Let's go to it, people."

Vala let them all file out, then brought up the rear.

No one gave them a second look as they made their way back through the bar. Vala stopped at the door and looked back at them, then shook her head. And these were the people the SGC were trying to save.

* * *

Sam woke up with a headache, the taste of something dead in her mouth, and the certainty that something was wrong. Cameron was asleep in a chair next to her bed, snoring. Something was definitely wrong, then. What it was, Sam didn't know. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember a fucking thing from the last twenty-four hours. Or even more. It was a frightening thought.

She must have made a sound, because Cam woke up and blinked at her, "Sam? Hey." His hand touched hers, fingers gentle. "Good to have you back, Colonel."

Licking her lips, Sam asked, "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

Standard SGC prompt, of course. She frowned, sorting through her memories. "I don't--We had a debriefing, and Landry gave us a week of downtime, and I went for a ride on my motorcycle, but after that..." Fear gripped her. Sam hated not knowing what had happened to her, what she'd missed. The fact that it could have been something like an abduction didn't escape her.

"That's good..." Cam kept his gaze steady as he wrapped his fingers around hers, "Near as we can tell, someone drugged your drink at the bar. You managed to puke most of it up, but it still knocked you cold. Doc thinks your memory might come back, might not."

"Why?"

"There are some sick puppies in this world, Sam."

"So..." She gave a shaky laugh, "Not the NID kidnaping me for experiments, then?"

"Not that we can tell." He tugged at her hand, "Just your normal, everyday, pervert, we think."

"Great." That didn't help, really. It just meant she'd have to be even more on her guard when out on her own. She tried to smile at Cameron, "So, did they...?" She couldn't say it, couldn't even complete what she was thinking.

"No. No, you punched him. Landry sent some cops to check out the place, and the bartender says you started yelling, hit the guy and then locked yourself in the bathroom."

Good. Sam closed her eyes, relieved. "How'd I get back?"

"Vala was calling you--don't ask me why, I don't know. And you said you needed help. One of the techs had a thingy for tracking your cell phone, and, bam, there we were." He chuckled, "We figured you might make it back on your own, but it's always good to keep SGC personnel from spending a night on a bathroom floor. By the way, when did Teal'c learn to pick locks?"

Eyebrows up, Sam gave him her best blank look, "I have no idea. You'll have to ask Teal'c."

"I did." Looking disgruntled, Cam dropped her hand and stretched. "He just raised his eyebrow and told me he'd never tell. So, since I know you taught Jonas, I thought, maybe..."

Folding her arms over her chest, Sam snorted, "You thought wrong. Now," she moved to sit up, "If you'll excuse me, I need a shower, fresh clothes, and a ride out to pick up my bike."

"You think that's wise?"

Sam glared at him.

"Right."

She softened, "Cameron, if I don't get my bike, who will? I can't stay cowering here, worried that the next guy who buys me a drink is going to try to rape me, ok?"

"Right. However, _Samantha_," he emphasized her name with his own glare, "You will, in future, not go to seedy bars in the middle of nowhere."

"Bite me," she suggested.

"You taste like licorice, no," he tossed over his shoulder as he obeyed her handwave and headed outside of the curtain so she could climb out of bed and dress.

"I do not!"

"Do to!"

"I do not times infinity."

"Do to times infinity plus one."

Rolling her eyes, and countering him (again), Sam got dressed. Obviously, Cam needed his ass kicked. Maybe they could arrange to take up some planes on their time off. She could fly rings around him, then he'd shut up about the licorice thing.

Yeah. And pigs would fly--without the aid of Asgard technology.

-f-


End file.
